A Fowl History

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

Late one night, or perhaps it already very early one morning, my husband and I chased the xenon glow of our headlights into a yawning maw of black.
The wind was in my hair, stars blazing above when suddenly something swooped up from the ditch on the glowing edge of my headlights. The Mothman? A Phantom? The instant before my shiny fiber-glass bumper made impact I saw the animal in its entirety: a Great Horned Owl.

The sound of Owl impact shattered my sensitivities and I instantly began to cry, at the same time, I am certain its death caused a tear in the universal order and I was at that moment cursed. Morgan jumped out of the car to inspect the animal and our front end, I sat and moaned and sobbed.

“Is it dead?” I whimpered

“Yes, very.”

“Do you think it suffered?”

“Well, I don’t think it enjoyed it.”

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

Morgan to his credit, did not laugh nor raise an eyebrow but merely hugged me until my storm of despair subsided. He then drove the rest of the way home trying to distract me from the Owl parts flying over the hood and past our windows. We parked the car outside that night.

Over the summer, the horror of that evening began to fade and I felt that I may one day be able to set-out bird feeders and bird watch without feeling like a murderer. I would find a way to make it right.

Later that summer, I was riding my bike one sunny morning, well entrenched in my mental zone, my legs spinning quickly, when suddenly – WHAM! Something hit the back of my helmet. I scrambled to stop the bike and stop whatever it was from making off with my noggin. I flailed my arms, swiveled my head side to side and caught a glimpse of wing. A Hawk! It was trying to lift off, my helmet securely in its talons, my neck stretching like under-cooked spaghetti. Finally the bird released its clawed grip on my head and I was free but thoroughly shaken: my helmet was trashed. I pedaled swiftly home with a nervous eye on the sky.

My friends later said that the Hawk likely thought the design on top of my helmet was a small bird, but I know, I know: it was avenging its Owl brother.

A few years later, I was sure my torrid bird encounters had passed. They flocked to my feeders, chirped from my trees and flaunted their plume for my pleasure. Certainly I had been forgiven? I could not have been more wrong.

Driving through Custer State Park one beautiful September evening, sun going down on the planes, backlighting the stolid forms of the Buffalo as they grazed, I felt an immense peace, the kind that only comes from quiet moments communing with nature, enjoying its undefinable splendor. Then, it happened again! A white flash of wing, a swooping movement and impact!

The Dove careened off the supporting pillar of our windshield and was gone in seconds. Was it tired of carrying the incredible burden as a symbol of peace? Had it sacrificed itself to make a statement to me? I was shaken; surely this was a bad omen. I hoped that the bird’s reasons where its own and had nothing at all to do with me, but I feared this was not the case. Moments later a crack spread its fingers across our windshield in a crooked, arthritic pattern. The birds weren’t done with me yet.

Weeks later, once again on my bike, I was attacked once more. The Pigeon was furious in its onslaught, throwing itself bodily against my shoulder, back and helmet. The attack was brief, but full of rage: a promise, a taste of further retribution to come. The Hitchcock theme played in my head and I contemplated never stepping foot outside again.

In Yellowstone a few weeks ago, I did it again. I ran over a family of Partridges: bearing down in our Legacy, headlights highlighting their panic, they scrambled and dodged, but were no match ultimately for my (apparent) lust for bird murder. I don’t even know how many birds sacrificed their lives for my sickness. Certainly, I am now a serial killer.

I do not know what the birds have in store for me, but I do know there is something. I know these latest atrocities will not go unanswered. I will pay for my fowl history.

Oh my....had to read this after the deck mention....not at all like my recent owl and hawk experiences!

And I've only ever taken out cats and rabbits with my car...it's been a long while though, although I may have taken out a bird? It's way back in the dark recesses of my memory, but I think it was most definitely a bird-suicide, they aim for the car sometimes (like those cats and rabbits)...

I'm sorry Kelly! I'm sure I should try to be compassionate here, but like Snow and Debby, I definately found some humor in this. Don't get me wrong. I've had the road kill experience too often - everything from deer, to cats, to rodents, to skunks, to wild turkeys, to, yes me too, a hawk. I've also had hawks dive at me twice when I was in total camo hunting. Neither quite grabbed me but both scared me pretty good. And then of course, there's sea gulls and their game of seeing how many people they can s*** on! Also have to go along with Debby's comment that nothing gets wasted in nature. And still.....

K-Po- Wow! Oh my! Sheesh!I must say, you have had quite a run...hope its over!I know, like Deb and Snow said, that this stuff happens, but I spend a lot of time ourtoor, hiking, walking , driving, gardening and none of this has ever happened to me. Not sure why, but no road kill even. seriously.

But....

Having safely said this...I have been pooped on by birds so many times, I cannot even count. Starting as a kid.I have a very clear sense of keeping my mouth close at all times, when looking up, taking no chances.

Im sorry too...Deb, I have to agree with you (embarassed at my warped sence of humor) that I was giggling, followed by LOL, followed of course by 15 minutes of coughing and choking on all the phlegm ...the stuff we were going to use as slip and slide on the Deck! Actually I was pretty heart felt once I got into your drama and realized it was not ending quite yet, and onto another bird fatality.... but once I pictured the helmet- I was a gonner. I have a full wingspan and body print on my front living room window of a redtailed hawk who did not die, but you can see its talons fully extended to grab one of my parakeets that are in the cage separated only by the window pane....it would have been a goner and the dusty print tells me he had a bad headache after his foiled attempt, at the very least! This might be a good time to coin the phrase "Sh*t Happens!" Sadly enough....***SNOW*** loved the blog!

Funny blog! Oh no sorry, but it is funny! Do you have any birds as pets? LOL!!

Actually I was driving home late one evening in my little car watching very carefully for deer. I've hit deer before, but in an SUV, not my little car. Anyway an owl swooped down from above and scared the beejeezes out of me! Sorry, road kill animals are just a way of life. But to put a postive spin on it, it ends up being food for other animals!